The Silence of the Sound
by RestllessQuill
Summary: If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you poison us, do we not die? If you wrong us, shall we not revenge? Though hatred is the madness of the heart, some may be willing to pay the price of the temporary strength it gives. K/N
1. Chapter 1

**WARNINGS!!****: This story contains graphic violence, mature content, sexual themes and possible relationships between members of the same sex. If you are easily offended, be warned! This story is rated what it is for a reason!**

**SPOILER WARNING! **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Naruto or any of its characters.**

**The Setting and Background: **

**Jiraiya and Naruto did not return to Konoha after two years of training. Instead, they stayed together much longer. Naruto learned many more techniques from his teacher, who he now calls "Shishou"(meaning "master"). **

**When they finally return to the village after almost six years, many things have changed. Naruto tries to do his best by catching up with his friends and trying to piece together his life again. **

**Sasuke is still with Orochimaru and eventually rumors reach Konoha that the Uchiha has slain the Sanin and merged with him. **

**After several peaceful months, Sasuke attacks the village with an army of Sound shinobi. **

**During the battle, Jiraiya falls, leaving Naruto behind feeling responsible for his death. **

**Overcome with grief, anger, and sorrow, will Naruto be able to continue living an ordinary life? **

**Or - for the first time in his life - will he finally be consumed with the sickness known as vengeance? **

**Some Elements Within this Universe:**

**1. Kakashi's is slightly younger. He is about 23.**

**2. The attitude of the villagers towards Naruto is much more violent. This gets worse after the battle with Sasuke.**

**3. Naruto has not yet found out about the true identity of his father.**

**And now, without further ado...  
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**The Silence of the Sound**

**Chapter 1**

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"Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live."*

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_Where am I?_

Surely, this couldn't be Hell.

Sunlight streamed down in semi-transparent rays, covering a stunning, green field with spots of brilliant light. The sky was cloudless – a startling azure that was reflected in a smooth lake. At first, he had trouble finding his body; his skin felt numb. But then, a soft breeze rushed through the clearing and he felt it more clearly than he'd ever felt anything in his life.

The air was warm – moist. Cool droplets of rain fell from above.

How strange, for there still was not a cloud in sight.

Tentatively, he spread his arms and tilted back his head, closing his eyes and absorbing the healing warmth and soothing water. He might have stood like that for centuries without a care; this was true bliss. Although he could not recall how he'd ended up in such a paradise – or even if he deserved to be here – he felt safe and peaceful.

"Naruto…"

That name sounded familiar; it took him a long while to realize that it belonged to him. Slowly, he opened his eyes and turned towards the voice at his side. A man stood there. His face was wrinkled with age, his hair a stunning white. Twin streaks of crimson stretched from his eyes down to his chin. Those eyes – they held the wisdom of ages though they twinkled with merriment.

"Shishou…" the boy whispered, a sudden tightening in his chest stealing his breath away. This was his Master – the man that had been his guardian, his father, and his teacher. Over several years, they had developed a bond that was closer than one shared by a family. "So you're here, too…" He smiled. Though this place was blissful, it was lonely. Now that he had someone to share it with, he was certain that it wouldn't be so bad.

"I'm here, but that doesn't mean you should be…"

Frowning, the boy shook his head.

"What do you mean? We belong here, don't we?"

For a moment, the older man was silent. Then –

"Naruto, you cannot stay here."

The warning was clear. During their years together, there was hardly a moment when his teacher had used this tone of voice. He was usually laughing, making a joke out of every situation; even if he had been disappointed with his slow progress, the man had never shown it. So why now? Why now, when they were in such a majestic place? What could possibly be wrong with spending eternity floating here – without a care in the world?

"It's dangerous…" he warned.

So that was it? His teacher was just worried for his safety? An strange yet too familiar emotion bloomed in his heart. Images flashed before his eyes – someone was standing in front of him, taking hits for him; someone was pushing him behind a strong and powerful back. He couldn't remember their faces, but he knew they were important to him. The hairs on his nape stood on end. Something was behind him, something precious and dear. He feared to turn around; if he looked back, he would never see the man in front of him again. If he looked back, he would be torn from this paradise. A sudden fierceness and restlessness took hold of him; stepping forward, he placed a firm hand on his teacher's shoulder.

"I'll protect you," he said confidently. "I'll protect you no matter what I have to do."

To his surprise, the man beside him laughed – a warm but dry sound. For the first time, Naruto saw that his eyes were glazed. A hand covered his own; it was cold as ice.

"It's a hundred years too early for you to be telling me that, brat."

The boy bristled at the half-hearted insult. For some reason, it was important that the older man believe him. Using all his strength, Naruto forced him to turn around. The man's face was grey – lifeless. It seemed that he was fading away right before his eyes. A chill settled in the pit of his stomach. The sunlight began to darken around him, the field shrinking in size.

"You've grown strong, Naruto…so strong…"

The panic that seized his heart in fiery talons was so painful that he nearly doubled over with its force. Desperately, he flew forward and clung to the man's robes with all the power he could muster. As always, the man understood his feelings perfectly. Naruto didn't have to say a word. With cold fingers, his teacher cupped his face, looking into his eyes with pride.

"I never imagined that I could be redeemed. When I failed to save the one person that mattered the most to me, I thought I'd never care for anyone again." Before Naruto could say anything in response, he was pulled into a fierce hug. "For so many years, I squandered my time selfishly. But then you came, and I was able to make a difference in your life. I felt that I was finally doing something for someone other than myself."

"You're still going to," the boy whispered. Again, the man did not respond. "We're going to the hot springs tomorrow, remember? You haven't finished teaching me how to…"

"_Naruto_," the man said firmly. His arms tightened painfully around him. The way his teacher said his name – it made him sick. There was finality in it; the sort of finality that hinted at loss and despair.

"No…I won't let you go. I _can't_…"

The scenery was shifting – the grass was dying; the rain stopped; the breeze no longer moved the trees. There was only the silence of the sound – the horrid, painful silence that had been so dominant in the first part of his life. He pressed his ear to the man's chest – again, there was only silence. Denial rose up as bile in his throat; this wasn't happening. This was just a horrid nightmare.

"Let me go…" the man said softly.

Naruto was so limp with shock and terror that he hardly felt himself being pulled up. Only when the man's face swam before his eyes did he understand that he was crying. His master smiled – that smile that always gave him strength, that smile that always made him feel strong enough to move on.

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no…_

"Don't leave me," the boy pleaded in a broken voice. "I can't do this on my own…" His lungs burned; he forgot how to breathe.

"I wish I had found you sooner. I wish I could have given more of myself to you. But the past cannot be undone. We can only learn from our mistakes and try to prevent others from repeating them." Stone-cold fingers pushed against his shoulder and made him turn around. He shut his eyes – squeezed them closed until he couldn't see a thing. "Look there, Naruto. Look at everything you're leaving behind. If you come with me, everything I've done will have meant nothing."

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no…_

Yet, no matter how much it went against everything inside him, his eyes were opened. Sprawled before him was Konoha – beautiful and radiant as it had always been. Though, it was different now - empty. He had memories of every road, every tree, and every bush – memories with this man. What would be the meaning of returning there if his teacher wasn't there with him? Would he walk alone through those quiet streets? Would his shadow be the only one to keep his company?

"Don't leave me alone…" the the boy begged. "I'm so alone…"

At this, the man laughed. His grip tightened on his shoulders.

"I'll always be with you…" He reached around and pulled the boy against his chest, placing one hand against his heart. "…_here_…"

"That's not enough…" Naruto rasped. "It's not enough…"

"Remember me…" the voice behind him whispered in his ear. "Remember me…"

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no!_

Damn his old life! Damn his past! Damn everything he would leave behind! He wanted to dig his nails into the man's weathered skin, but his fingers grasped at nothing. When he turned around, there was only darkness. The man was gone; he was alone. Falling to his knees, the boy wrapped his arms around his shaking body, rocking back and forth. Panic was tearing him apart, loneliness was eating him alive. His head was spinning. This was a nightmare; this had to be a nightmare. Any second now, he would wake up and find his teacher teasing him about his laziness. Any second now, he would wake up and find a sarcastic smile greeting him.

_Remember me…_

In that moment, he thought he would do absolutely anything to hear that voice again. He held his breath and waited…

And waited…

And waited…

But all he could hear was the silence of the sound.

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When he opened his eyes, he was nearly blinded. The sun had returned – violently hot and painfully bright. He groaned, wanting to crawl into a hole. His body was on fire.

"Naruto! Are you alright? Can you hear me?"

The sudden sound pressing against his sensitive ear drums was almost too much to bear. He saw blurred shapes floating above his face and wanted nothing more than to swat them away. He would have, had his arms not been made of lead.

"Looks like he's coming out of it. Hold him still."

Hold him? Were the shapes talking about him? Was he moving? Nausea disoriented him. Memories burst past the damn in his mind. Jiraiya – where was he? Where was his teacher? Where was the man that had become his father?

_Remember me…_

Completely off balance, he rolled sideways until he felt himself falling. The impact with the ground jarred him so hard he bit the side of his cheek. It was fortunate; the pain snapped him out of his daze. His vision sharpened until he saw a dark, blue wall. Without pause, he vomited. Endlessly, his stomach heaved; the contractions continued until he felt nothing but acid hitting the back of his throat. Through sheer will, he pulled himself up until he was standing.

_Remember me…_

He took a few steps before he crashed against the wall, his knees, face, and elbows bursting in agony. He was alive. Why was he alive? Just now, he had been in paradise. Just now, he had seen his teacher's face. What was he doing in this wretched place? Where was the point in anything if his most precious person wasn't here beside him?

"Naruto! Don't get up!"

"Give me the sedative," a calm voice interrupted. He whirled around and saw three familiar faces. The first one he recognized was Sakura's. She should have been beautiful; her face should have taken his breath away as it always had, but it did not. She seemed plain as paper; her presence did nothing to move him. Next was Tsunade – lovely, passionate, moody, and violent Tsunade. She stood next to a tall man he vaguely recognized as his old teacher – Kakashi. His black eye was focused intently on Naruto's face; was he trying to see through him? Could he even understand the depth of his sorrow? Naturally, no one could. The hole punched through his gut was a void that could never be filled again.

"He's gone…he's gone…he's gone…" Dimly, Naruto recognized that he was speaking, but he couldn't feel his lips. Sakura sprang forward, her turquoise eyes filled with pity.

"Naruto, I'm so sorry…" He hated her for that pity. It was the last thing he needed.

"I couldn't do anything…" he said shakily. Like lightning, images burned through his memories. The attack on the village – he remembered that. Sasuke, no merged with Orochimaru, had nearly lain waste to Konoha in a surprise attack. They had been unprepared. The Hokage's tower had been completely destroyed; so many people died right before his eyes. The rage had taken him by storm; his inner beast had responded all too eagerly. Before he could even try to resist, he had transformed, throwing Rasenshurikens every which way, not caring if he destroyed buildings in his pursuit of the enemy. Eventually, he had driven Sasuke and the Sound shinobi back, but at the price of his sanity. Instead of calming down, he had chased him, unaware that Jiraiya was following close behind. In an attempt to stop Naruto's rampage, the Sanin had risked his life to try to forcefully seal the Kyuubi away.

While he was preoccupied, the Sound attackers had returned. He could not recall who had been responsible, but someone had taken advantage of the older man's weak moment. He had been struck down violently, bleeding heavily from the chest and neck. Seeing that, Naruto's rage grew worse. From that point on, he hardly remembered a thing – only that Sasuke had somehow repressed the Kyuubi's chakra. After that, everything was a blur.

"I killed him…" the boy suddenly sobbed. He stretched out his bandaged hands, staring at his useless fingers. "With these hands, I…"

"Naruto! Don't you _dare_ try to take responsibility."

His head snapped up right as someone grabbed him by the front of his shirt. He was jerked upwards until he could focus on one, midnight-black eye. Kakashi – again, he was trying to reassure him with pure nonsense. _Of course_ it was his fault. Had he been in better control, none of this would have happened.

"My god…what have I done?" The realization that his stupidity had led to the death of his teacher – no, his _father_ – forced the blood out of his face. Cold sweat made him shudder. His vision tunneled. He heard footsteps and saw Tsunade coming towards him with something in her hand. They had said something about a sedative. Startled, he gripped Kakashi's wrist between his hands and tried to pry himself loose. His eyes were wild; he struggled like a cornered animal.

"Relax…take it easy…" the Hokage murmured.

His shoulder stung and before he could try to fight it, he was blacking out.

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**A/N:**

***Quote by Norman Cousins**

**Well, what did you guys think? **

**Please review if you enjoyed!**

**Feedback helps to inspire and is always greatly appreciated!  
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	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you everyone for your comments and favorites! Sorry this chapter took a little bit of time. I wanted to maximize its length. **

**I should be able to update at least once a week (hopefully more if I have the time). **

**I apologize for any typos or errors in the writing. I don't have anyone to beta, so I have to try and find these mistakes on my own. I fix it as soon as I see it :)  
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**And now...**

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**The Silence of the Sound**

**Chapter 2**

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"When friendship disappears then there is a space left open to that awful _**loneliness**_ of the outside world which is like the cold space between the planets. It is an air in which men perish utterly."*

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"Broken left ulna, dislocated left shoulder, shattered olecranon process, fractured scapula, crushed ulna, snapped clavicle, broken first, _second_, _third_ right ribs…"

The catalog of his injuries was longer than he thought. For a while, he listened to the medic calmly, testing out the mentioned areas to see how they felt. As expected, every time he tried to move, he was hurtled into a dense haze of agony. Damn this ridiculously slow healing. Normally, the Kyuubi would already be mending his injuries.

"…severe burns on hands, forearms, and chest…"

Convinced that he wasn't going to be able to go anywhere for now, Naruto allowed himself to relax against the mattress – _his_ mattress. After the attack, the hospital was flooded; there were not enough rooms to accommodate all of the injured. Some time ago, he had awakened in his apartment; Tsunade was there, explaining that they had decided to keep him here to allow other patients – in more critical condition – to receive treatment at the hospital. But Naruto wasn't a fool. He'd seen through the lie in a heartbeat. The truth was, that nobody _wanted_ to treat him there and not even the Hokage could guarantee his safety should he be left alone with the villagers.

"…damaged muscles, various torn ligaments…"

At last, the man finished his list. Naruto cracked open an eye to look at him. His posture was stiff, his face hidden by his clipboard. Obviously, this man wanted nothing to do with him as well.

"By order of Hokage-sama, you are to be confined to this room until the medical team deems you ready to move on your own."

With a forced inclination of his head, the medic disappeared in a puff of smoke. Again, Naruto was left alone with his thoughts. He sighed, remembering his dream.

_Let me go…_

How could he? How could he ever allow himself let go of another hand? Wasn't once enough? Wasn't one failure enough to last a lifetime? Why did Karma choose to take more and more from him? Would his loss span the infinite recesses of eternity? Would he continue losing ever after he had nothing left to lose?

_Let me go…_

How _could _he? How could _anyone_ expect him to forget the gaping chasm in his heart? Outwardly, he looked alright; outwardly, his wounds were healing steadily. Though he'd been told that the Kyuubi's chakra had been repressed, it was regenerating slowly. He would survive his injuries; he would live to see another sunrise. Yet, that knowledge was no comfort because inwardly, he was screaming. Over and over again he relived that moment – that split second – in which he'd watched Jiraiya die.

_Remember me_ – the old man had said. What foolishness! As if he could forget him; as if he could forget the years they'd spent together; as if he could forget their bond. There had been few people that had acknowledged his existence. From the moment that his fate had been decided – the moment in which the Kyuubi had been sealed inside him – he became a stain on Konoha's perfect surface. He was a black mark on a perfectly white record – a bothersome scar that could only serve as a reminder of past horrors.

_Monster_!

With an angry flourish, he tore the blankets off his body and tossed his legs over the side of the bed. The tile floor was cold; the medics must have moved his rug. His eyes settled on his hands – the action had become a habit. He stared at his palms – not really knowing why. They looked empty, as they always did; empty, and useless. Eighteen years he had been alive. What had he accomplished? He hadn't proved himself to anyone, he hadn't been strong enough to keep his best friend by his side, and he had caused the death of his _father_ with his inadequacy. If he had to judge the quality of his life so far, he would say that it had been nothing but a vain attempt at _truly living_. He'd thought that he always tried his hardest in everything he did; he'd always pushed himself to the brink of breaking. Had he been wrong, then? Could he have tried harder?

A small gust of wind ruffled his hair. He looked outside and suddenly felt the need to leave this place. The room felt stifling. When he stood up, he wavered on his feet – not so much because of weakness as the sudden weight that made his shoulders sag. Guilt, remorse, responsibility – they were chains on his feet. He jumped through the open window and made his way down to the streets from the shingled roof. The concrete – heated by the sun – burned the soles of his feet. He scrunched his toes, shifting his weight from one foot to the other until he was used to the temperature. Though he knew that trying to run away from the conscience was impossible, he tried anyway.

Keeping his eyes on the ivory road, he tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. He hoped that being outside would somehow work to clear his head, but the shadow of regret followed him as closely as the sunlight on his back. His shoulders shook with barely suppressed anger; he felt it welling up inside him until there was an audible ringing in his ears. A silence scream was building in his throat. Helpless to stop himself, he staggered sideways, his shoulder impacting against a wall. He wanted to yell as loud as he could; he wanted to give voice to the impossible _pain_ that worked like corrosive acid in his lungs. Instead, he bit his lip until he tasted blood and punched his fist into the wall.

_Damn it! Damnit! Damn it! Damn it!_

Over and over again, he beat the concrete until he felt his knuckles shattering. It was nothing. He only felt the cracking, not the actual discomfort. At some point, he imagined that he saw his own face in the wall. Hatred nearly made him want to vomit. His renewed his efforts to destroy the stone. After a while, he had to stop. His hand finally began to throb. He looked up and finally took note of his surroundings.

Konoha had suffered a lot of damage. All around him, the buildings were broken. Some had missing roofs; others were missing everything but one or two walls. The water tower in the center of the district had been bent out of shape; water leaked from it in steady streams. He stepped under it, allowing the frigid current to wash over his face. The ringing in his ears had yet to stop. Not even the chill could drown it out. He stood there for an unknown span of time, closing his eyes and trying to focus just on the sound of the flowing water. It was no use. Even behind closed eyelids, images – memories – were running by at the speed of light. It was too difficult to separate them from each other. The important thing was that, together, they made the realization that the hermit was never coming back too difficult to bear.

Pushing away from the metallic tubes that supported the tower, he shoved his hands into the large pockets of his over-sized black pants and continued walking. On the way, he passed by different stores and inns. Though many of the buildings were beyond recognition, he still knew what they were. People were walking around, some in shock, others trying to gather what was left of his belongings. Some were even looking his way, their eyes accusing. Inwardly, he compared the way things looked now to the way they had been when he had walked this way with the Sanin. Back then, he could have cared less about the looks he received from the surrounding townsfolk; back then, his teacher had shielded him from everything. Now, however, was so very different. The farther he got towards the center of town, the darker the atmosphere became. Soon, he was aware that he was being surrounded by people, not all of them civilians.

_Fifty-two dead, over one hundred injured, and nearly thirty missing_…

That had been the Hokage's verdict; it was much worse than anyone could have expected. The first attack on Konoha hadn't been this severe. Then again, that time Naruto hadn't been capable of wreaking havoc on his surroundings; he hadn't been able to make the damage to the village worse than it already was. This time, however, in his mindless rage, he had destroyed a large number of buildings and had changed the landscape itself. There were scars in the ground that stretched from the cliff side all the way into the heart of the city. Plates of earth stuck up in various places; trees were uprooted; wires were torn; paper lamps burned to a black crisp.

Though none of the casualties from the event were yet linked to him, he was certain that the villagers were blaming him for their plight. Many had lost homes, relatives, friends. For the shop owners, the devastation meant a loss of livelihood; for regular families, the closing of the shops meant no food or sustenance. Many would be left to sleep in the streets; many would go hungry.

_Thanks to me…_

He stopped walking and sighed. The crowd was closing in on him. He was in a dangerous situation, but somehow, he couldn't force himself to feel a shred of fear. Let them come; let them do as they wished. Right now, physical pain would be more than welcome in comparison to the torment he was feeling in his heart.

A strong wind whistled by.

He wore nothing but a pair of dark, loose, pants. The rest of his body was covered in bandages. During his walk through the still-burning village, some of the wrappings had come undone. His hair was a tangled mess, still soaked from the water from the tower. His feet were covered in dirt and mud. Surely, he _looked_ like a monster. A beast inside and out. He couldn't blame the villagers for their hate.

There was a moment of utter stillness before someone kicked him in the back of his knees; he fell forward obediently, not even trying to regain his balance. Instead, he stared at the cracked ground. A hand grabbed him by the roots of his hair and dragged his body backwards. He felt sharp pebbles and broken gravel cutting his skin, but the pain barely registered.

_I deserve this…_

The crowd around him was saying something, but all he could hear was jumbled sounds. Animated faces – red with outrage and hatred – were spitting insults at him. Something wavered in his vision – a blurred shape in the distance.

_I deserve this, don't I? _– he thought as he was lifted and thrown into a pool of red, muddy, water. People took turns – some of them kicked, some of them threw things. One man pushed his face down into the water; Naruto didn't struggle – if he drowned, so be it. Unfortunately, the man didn't have the resolution to follow through with his anger. He released the boy just as he was on the verge of suffocating. He came up coughing, flinching as clumps of mud were thrown in his face. These people were still screaming something unintelligible; there was no point in trying to decipher the chaotic noise. He was certain that – though fifteen years had passed since this abuse began – their insults hadn't changed. Before he could completely catch his breath, someone else immersed his head in the water.

_I deserve this…I know I do…_

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It was a terrible sight.

Kakashi had always suspected that Naruto hadn't had a happy childhood. Far from being a fool, he had seen and felt the animosity that Konoha felt towards the Kyuubi child. He'd seen him sporting bruises sometimes – cuts and scrapes that didn't have an explanation. When the boy had been assigned to his team, he would often see him with a black eye or a split lip. Of course, back then, he had attributed it to Naruto's constant training. The boy had an unhealthy habit of pushing himself to his limits. Eventually, however, Kakashi came to realize that someone else was responsible for the injuries. He had spoken about it with the Hokage and Team 7 were given missions away from the village, both to help their growth and to try and keep Naruto away from possible abuse.

After that, the situation resolved itself – or so he had believed. Naruto had made friends. Though Sakura ignored the boy most of the time, he and Sasuke became inseparable. At first, Kakashi had thought this to be a healthy opportunity for Naruto to find a new source of confidence, but eventually the jounin saw the perils in the boys' relationship. They were rivals, but not in the ordinary sense of the term. Their constant struggle for dominance reminded him too much of himself in the past; he worried for his students. The last thing he wanted was for Naruto and Sasuke to go through the same hell he had experienced.

His fears were confirmed all too soon. Sasuke left Konoha to join Orochimaru; Naruto had nearly died trying to bring him back. While the boy was in the hospital, the mysterious organization called Akatsuki sent several members to Konoha and revealed that their primary target was the vessel of the Nine Tails. At that point, the boy's protection was made a top priority. Should Akatsuki somehow capture the child, the terrible power of Kyuubi could be wielded against them all. That was when things really turned for the worse. Realizing that Konoha's safety was threatened, the people of the village found a scapegoat yet again. As before, Naruto would come to meetings with bruises and swollen cheeks.

When the great Sanin Jiraiya had taken him away, things seemed to improve. Or maybe Kakashi just felt that way because he didn't see him every day. He had watched, with unfamiliar jealousy, as the Sanin wove a protective barrier around his pupil. Because the older man was always there for him, supporting him, encouraging him, lending him strength, Naruto no longer had anything to fear from insecurity. Why had he succeeded where the jounin had failed? Why had Jiraiya been able to give Naruto the support he needed while he was forced back into the shadows? It didn't seem fair.

During a period of six years, Naruto and his teacher rarely returned to Konoha at all. Every time Kakashi saw his former student, he couldn't help but be surprised. With each return, the child became more of an adult. Inwardly, Kakashi couldn't help but wonder how strong he had become. He waited eagerly for the day when Naruto would decide to permanently stay; it came much sooner than he expected. To his disappointment, upon the boy's return, he was assigned to a subordinate of his – Yamato. The decision was right; the man was the only one in the village who could suppress the Kyuubi's chakra. According to the Sanin, the boy needed to be carefully monitored. The seal was weakening, he had explained, and they all had to be on their guard. At first, the new leader and the old Team 7 – minus Sasuke – shared a fair amount of friction; however, after a while, they grew to respect each other and work well as a single unit.

Again, Kakashi had to stand aside. Again, he had to watch Naruto give his determined smile to someone else. _My time will come_ – he told himself. And it did. When he needed it and was ready for it, Kakashi had taken him under his wing. Together with Yamato, they trained and pushed the boy until he was able to create his first technique – the Rasenshuriken. He'd been so proud; to know that he had left something of himself in this bright, burning, child was like a rush. Everything was going well.

Until that day.

Yamato had been sent away on an extended mission. Naruto was still injured from his reckless battle with Akatsuki. How ironic that Sasuke and the Sound would choose this precise moment to attack. The raid was swift, deadly, and efficient. In less than two hours, almost the entire village was in flames. People were running around in a panic, screaming for their lives. Shinobi were dying left and right; bodies were strewn all over the streets. Naruto must have been desperate. He lost control of the Kyuubi and went on a rampage through the flames. It was only thanks to him that the Sound was pushed back. True, the nine tailed beast had destroyed a good portion of homes and buildings, but that was all. Somehow, Naruto had managed to avoid killing any Konoha citizens.

However…

In the people's eyes, he must have been just another monster. When Kakashi had dragged his broken and bleeding body to the hospital, the medics refused to take him in. No matter how much Tsunade threatened them, they would take no action to help the vessel of the terrible Kyuubi. Had they not been pressed for time, the Hokage may have been able to persuade them otherwise; but Naruto was severely injured. Using his Sharingan, Kakashi could tell that Kyuubi's chakra had somehow been momentarily sealed off. Without it, the boy's injuries were serious enough to be fatal. They decided to move him to his small apartment, where they were able to stabilize his condition after nearly twenty-four hours of chakra channeling and an incredible effort on Tsunade's and Sakura's part. After his initial awakening, Kakashi understood that Naruto blamed himself for what had happened. It was a natural reaction, but it still infuriated him.

Knowing his nature all too well, the jounin was prepared when he saw the boy sneaking out of his room to wander the streets this morning.

_Do not let him leave the house. There's no telling what they'll do to him if they see him in such a weakened state._

How right the Hokage had been.

When the villagers first surrounded the stumbling boy, Kakashi's instincts had nearly spurred him into action. He held back, believing that they wouldn't harm someone who was so obviously injured – their _savior_ nonetheless. He was proven wrong too soon. He watched, shocked and stunned, as men, women, and even children took their turns beating him. They dragged him towards a muddy crater in the ground and tossed him in, covering him in mud and nearly drowning him. Not once did the boy fight back. Cursing himself for hesitating, the jounin disappeared from his place on the rooftop above the scene and reappeared with his hand on the shoulder of Naruto's attacker. The man released his hold on Naruto's hair, allowing the boy to resurface in a fit of dry coughing.

With collective gasps and murmurs everyone backed away from him. Kakashi couldn't speak; he didn't trust himself to. Though they were clearly in the wrong, they were civilians. He was afraid that a full-blown riot would ensue should he try to verbally justify Naruto's innocence.

"_Curse him…"_

"_Filthy mongrel…should have been killed at birth…"_

"_Let's get out of here…" _

He met each glare and insult head on. His eyes must have held that deadly glint he was so well known for because each person who met his gaze jumped back as though burned. When the street was clear, he knelt by the boy's side, rage eating away at the lining of his gut. How he wanted to hurt every one of those sick bastards. What had this boy ever done to deserve such shitty karma?

Gently, he rubbed circles on his back until Naruto's gasping and coughing subsided.

"Are you alright? What were you thinking, coming out here like this?"

Instead of answering, the boy looked at the ground, his shoulders trembling. He was covered in dirt – it was so red that Kakashi couldn't tell where Naruto's blood began and where the mud ended. Frustrated, the jounin forced up his chin, only to meet eyes as dead and lifeless as a rotting tree husk. Those crystal clear, blue eyes were already abnormally large and stunning, but with the light entirely absent from them they seemed even bigger. It was as though they were looking straight _through_ him – down to the depths of his soul. The sight was unnerving, to say the least.

"Oi, Naruto!" Kakashi called, shaking the body in his grip hard enough to jar him. Instead of snapping out of his stupor, the boy's head fell back. He was limp as a rag doll. "Shit." Horrified and completely at a loss for what to do, he draped him over his back and ran as quickly as was humanly possible towards the Hokage's office.

_Please don't let me have been too late._

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"_I don't know what to tell you. His injuries seem to be healing fine, but it's as though his spirit is completely absent." _

The boy sitting on a chair, wrapped in a warm quilt, was a stranger. The face that had been so dear to him, the smile that he treasured so much, was gone. According to the Hokage, there was no guarantee that it would ever return. Since that night nearly four days ago, Naruto hadn't spoken a single word. The only thing he appeared to be interested in was staring listlessly out the window. When prompted, he would accept food and eat a little. When offered, he would hold a glass and drink. But, other than that, he showed no response to the world around him. At the rate things were going, no one could be sure of the best course of action.

The situation with the villagers hadn't been forgotten. The Hokage had asked Kakashi to keep it a secret for now. None of Naruto's friends knew about it. They all thought that the boy had simply done something reckless again. His injuries were healing well, to their relief. Everything else – they believed – would slowly fall back into place. Although even the Hokage trusted that things would eventually go back to normal, Kakashi wasn't as certain.

In the chaos following the attack on the village, Jiraiya's body still hadn't been recovered. Search teams had scoured the surrounding forest for it but returned empty handed. The funeral honoring the fallen had been held the day before. Through its entirety, Naruto hadn't shed a single tear; he hadn't blinked; he hadn't moved. In fact, had Kakashi not urged him to follow him back to his apartment, the boy would probably still be standing in the square. Seeing him like this was disturbing. It was like all the energy had been completely drained from his body. Had the Sanin meant so much to him? Had he meant enough that his death could cause such a drastic response?

Angry and disappointed, Kakashi walked to Naruto's chair and slammed both of his hands down on the wooden arm rests. The sound echoed in the barren room; it should have at least startled him, but he remained completely still. The symptoms were obvious, the cause all too clear. Guilt, regret, failure – all these things were written on the young man's face. Kakashi could recall a similar experience. He had once returned from an ANBU mission as the only survivor in the company. Back then, he had also believed that he was somehow at fault for their deaths. For a while, he had wandered around in a daze, wondering why it was that he had been chosen to survive while they'd been doomed to die. At that time, it was the Yondaime that had helped him sort through his grief, to realize that he had survived so that he could work to save others.

Looking at the boy before him, he cursed his inability to offer comfort. He knew what he should have been saying, but the words were stuck behind closed lips. He'd known Jiraiya for many years, but because of the man's tendency to travel, he'd never been able to form as strong a bond with him as Naruto surely had. When the Third had died, he'd mourned because he'd been fairly close to him. Naturally, the old hermit's death had come as a shock, but he had trouble understanding Naruto's pain. If anything, Kakashi was a logical being. His participation in ANBU had taught him to put emotion on the backburner and to place more value in logic than in feeling. He'd killed enough people to understand that death was a common occurrence.

_How can I possibly explain that to him?_ – he thought. _Should I even try?_

He wondered how much of the boy's pain stemmed from guilt rather than what had actually happened. Countless times he had wanted to confront him about it, but had ended up remaining silent. Again, he recognized that he wasn't the best candidate for offering "comfort and solace". Truthfully, Kakashi believed that he was as dry and rough as crusted bread. Though he knew that he cared for Naruto more deeply than he'd cared for anyone since the Yondaime's death, he also admitted that he was emotionally challenged. All in all, the situation was infuriating. He felt helpless and useless. Where was the point in caring for someone if you couldn't even help them be themselves?

For the next few weeks, the situation remained unchanged. At first, Sakura and all of Naruto's friends from the academy had visited in an attempt to cheer their friend up. Those visits had all ended in one-sided conversations. The boy didn't leave the apartment; hell, Kakashi had to wonder if he even left that accursed chair. The only visible difference that the jounin could see was that trash was constantly piling up in the boy's living quarters. Torn paper, half-eaten cups of Ramen; his bed hadn't been made in ages and only god knew how long ago the boy had done his laundry. Did he even sleep? He always wore the same clothes. Everyone was worried sick, but his friends gave up on coming over. The Hokage was busy with cleaning up the city and dealing with her own sense of loss. Jiraiya had been a close friend to her, after all; Kakashi could only imagine how she felt losing him after such a prolonged friendship. One day, he was called into her office.

_We have to do something, Kakashi…I won't let him waste away._

He'd agreed. Without her having to ask him, he'd assigned himself the duty of breaking Naruto's depression. No matter how terrible the boy felt, he wouldn't let him continue drowning in self-loathing.

It was a pitch-black when Kakashi knocked on the boy's door. It was open, so he let himself in. The sight was too familiar. No lights were turned on; trash was everywhere; the bed looked the same as it had weeks ago. The table was covered in opened Ramen cups, some filled with water, some lying on their sides – abandoned. He silently padded over to the window where Naruto sat in his customary chair. His arms lay on the wooden armrests, his eyes as empty as ever, staring into nothingness. In general, he looked horrible. His cheeks, which had always been slightly rounded and charmingly rosy, were sunken in. There were solid, black rings under his eyes. The boy wasn't wearing a shirt; even in the overwhelming darkness, Kakashi could see that his ribs were starting to show through. He walked over to his former student and leaned against the windowsill.

"When was the last time you slept?"

To his surprise, the boy answered –

"I'm not tired."

"When was the last time you took a shower?"

"Don't feel like it…"

Kakashi closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. He was talking, at least. That was already progress.

"When was the last time you had a healthy meal?"

"I'm not hungry."

"When was the last time you got laid?"

He'd hoped for a smile, at least, in response to that outrageous question. Everyone knew Naruto was as innocent and naïve as a baby when it came to such matters. Surely, his words would at least make the boy _look_ at him.

"As always, you're being ridiculous, Sensei…"

Kakashi's eyes widened when Naruto's voice came from behind him in the room. He whirled around, his hand reaching for his kunai, when he saw Naruto stepping out from the shadowed bedroom. At first, he couldn't quite register what was happening. He looked from the Naruto sitting on the chair to the one moving in his direction and finally realized that the other was a shadow clone. Upon closer inspection, he saw that the clone was carrying a blanket. He walked past the jounin and draped the quilt over the boy's shoulders. Clones were generally easy to spot if one knew what they were looking for. Typically, they didn't have that certain spark of life in their eyes. In battle, this was too small of a detail to go by, but under normal circumstances, it was quite a giveaway. In Naruto's case, neither the clone nor the original had this spark. After the copy finished covering the original's body, he bent forward and wrapped his arms around himself, placing his chin on the top of the original's head. The sight caught at his heartstrings.

_Naruto…_

"In an effort to minimize the emotional distress, he tried to split it into several parts. Over the past few weeks, we have been re-entering his conscious mind. I am the last part," the clone explained. Kakashi watched, surprised, as Naruto's hand came up to cover his clone's arm. They could have been a pair of lovers. The image should have been alien, but for some reason he could not explain, Kakashi wanted _himself_ to be there for Naruto in place of the clone. Why hadn't the boy called someone? If he was so lonely that he had to make shadow clones to deal with his sorrow, why hadn't he simply asked someone for help? Why hadn't he called _him_? Kakashi's bangs fell forward to cast a shadow on his face. Always, the boy felt that he had to shoulder the burden by himself. Always, he believed that he was the only one suffering. Knowing that he'd grown up surrounded by people who treated him like the villagers had, Kakashi tried to understand his reasons. It must have been a defense mechanism; he was more vulnerable than he wanted others to know. Had Jiraiya known this? Had he been able to stop it? Angrily, he wondered if the Sanin would have been able to help Naruto in a situation such as this.

_Jealousy_ – black and thick as the darkest of tar began to coat his heart. _Jealousy_ that had no explanation. At least, not one that could rationalize the force of his sudden anger. He watched the two Narutos – two halves of a broken vase – and wanted nothing more than to rage at them both. He wanted to shout accusations – why had they pushed away people that were trying to help them? Why did they think that they were alone? Why did one death mean the end of all life? Why did they blame themselves for something that was not their fault? Shouting was the inappropriate course of action, however, so the silver-haired jounin held himself in check.

"You can't keep hiding in this room forever…"

A glittering light caught his attention. His chest tightened when he saw tears trailing down the original Naruto's face. He took a step forward but stopped in mid-stride. The clone Naruto frowned and tightened his embrace. Reaching up, he covered the boy's eyes with his hands, leaning down and whispering something in his ear. The original's lips tightened; tears spilled from underneath the clone's hands. When the copy looked up, there was a line marring his brow. Kakashi had never seen this particular expression on the boy's face; however, for the first time in ages, there was life in his eyes.

"We have thought for a while on how to continue our life here in Konoha without disrupting the peace."

The way he spoke, that serious tone of voice – everything about him was completely alien. Kakashi glanced from the calm, collected clone to the broken original and had to wonder which of them was real. Doing his best to school his expression into one of neutrality, he nodded, glad that something was going to be resolved. He supposed he understood on some level what Naruto was going to say. It was obvious that, at least for some time, he would need to stay away from the villagers. Once Konoha was rebuilt and order restored, everyone would understand that they'd been in the wrong. It was an unfair and sickening situation, but there was nothing that could be done. Without moving his hands from the original's face, the boy shifted his gaze back to the window; his eyes were hard – more mature than Kakashi had ever seen them. He knew that Naruto's suggestion would probably surprise him, but he wasn't quite prepared for what he said –

"We've decided that we will join the ANBU."

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***Quote by Hillaire Beloc**

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